


Losing So Much

by I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning



Series: Adopted Prompts [18]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Genocide, F/M, Gen, Graphic Depiction of Mind Rape, Heavy Angst, Horror, Mind Trick Horror, Offscreen Clone Suicide, Order 66, Psychological Horror, Revenge of the Sith AU, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 15:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16478072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning/pseuds/I_Gave_You_Fair_Warning
Summary: Anakin killed the Jedi, then Palpatine, installed Padmé as Empress, and Obi-Wan as her adviser. There had been a slight complication: they refused.He took care of it, of course. They are all playing their parts now, as planned.





	Losing So Much

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt sent to me via tumblr, anonymously: For the prompts, how about jedi mind trick horror? the scary part could be loss of autonomy or the acts committed while controlled, or could be effects of long-term or very strong influence (brain damage and the like). don't hold back, im here because you do whump so well 
> 
> Warnings: 
> 
> Cody commits suicide offscreen, and Rex has been continuously lied to about it. Rex killed Ahsoka on Mandalore (which we do not see), and cannot remember that either. This is an awful story; don't expect to feel warm and fuzzy afterwards. Maybe have a fluff lined up to read after, to help manage the angst level.

 

Mostly... it had gone well.

The Jedi in the Temple had fought tooth and claw to _live,_ but none could truly stand against Vader backed by the best soldiers ever to draw breath.

The Separatist leaders had put up even less of a fight.

Amusingly enough, the one who put up the  _least_ fight, when Anakin realized the liar didn't  _actually_ know the Sith secret he'd claimed, was Palpatine.

The old man never saw the blow coming.

Padmé was Empress, as she should be.

There was just...  _one_ thing not right.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin's master stood there looking stricken, even though Anakin had assured him amnesty, employment, standing, a place to  _live—_ his rooms were  _nice—_

“I cannot stay.”

Anakin felt annoyance bubbling up inside. Of course not. Of course his master would try to wreck what Anakin was trying to build.

“ _Why_ ?”

“You threatened me,” Obi-Wan murmured, as if that justified it. “You said, 'Don't make me kill you,' when all I asked was why. I have outlived so many. Seen so many loved ones die and I helpless to prevent it, before the war and in the war... but some survived. Nine thousand. And now you're all I have left... but you did this to me.”

Anakin drew in a careful breath, trying not to just  _shake_ sense into Obi-Wan. “I should be enough. You said you loved me.”

“That's not how humans work, Anakin. They need packs. Tribes, families, whatever word is the one used. You killed mine, to save yours. And  _Cody._ ”

“I didn't  _know_ about the chips at the time,” Anakin grumbled. “And he's gone through surgery, we've taken Cody's out. He'll be fine.”

Obi-Wan's hand was trembling. His gaze fell away, then lifted again, raised to Anakin's face, even though Obi-Wan's face was pinched as if it were terribly difficult or painful. “You don't know, then. He took his own life. I was going to visit him, he'd just woken up... I arrived in time only to hold him as he passed.” Obi-Wan's gaze turned vacant, as if he no longer saw Anakin at all. “In that sense, I had more with him than with the others, who were just  _gone_ before I even knew there was danger, but the danger was you. The man I trusted more than anyone, to protect me and the people I loved.”

Anakin opened his mouth, found he couldn't locate words.

“Please ask Padmé to stop trying to see me. I do not resent that she lives, but I can't help but feel what it cost me.”

Padmé?

“I will live in this world you've made,” Obi-Wan stated, sounding so unspeakably  _weary._ “I have no other choice but to accept that you have created a completely different world. But I will not live where I must every day see the face of the brother who did this to me. I need to mourn, somewhere you are not.”

He turned to go.

It was unacceptable.

“Obi-Wan.”

The Jedi paused, looked back, and Anakin struck.

He knew where to aim, this time, to pour all his strength into a slam of power and intent against Obi-Wan's mind, smashing through anything standing in his way and reaching for exactly what he was looking for.

It didn't take much to sway the mind of a weak-willed, non-Force-sensitive individual. They rarely even noticed something had happened, unless there was memory of actions they couldn't really explain why they'd wanted to take.

A stronger willed person took much more interference, some forcing, and it would be _felt._ Anakin had been involved in trying to claw into Cad Bane's mind, once, and the man had come undone before his defenses were even breached, giving up the information Anakin had desired in order to retain his sanity.

And then there were the strong-willed,  _trained_ Force-sensitives, who knew how to shield their minds from meddling.

Thing was, Anakin had been born of the Force, and had an exponentially greater strength available to him than anyone else.

Obi-Wan felt it.

He crashed to his knees, the vessels in his eyes bursting, a hoarse cry exploding from his lips.

Maybe he now remembered Anakin doing this on Mustafar. Obi-Wan had danced close to Mustafar in this conversation, but he hadn't seemed to ask the question of how the battle  _ended._ Why Obi-Wan was living  _here._

Anakin had been careful to leave a suggestion of unimportant, to guide Obi-Wan away from looking too close at what had been altered, but Obi-Wan had come to the decision to leave without even realizing Anakin had done something within his mind before.

_And it'll be like that again._

Obi-Wan slammed the rest of the way to the floor, writhing, clawing at the carpet as if trying to bury himself in it, to maybe writhe his way  _through_ the floor and out of sight. Drool pooled out of his mouth, the acrid scent of urine assaulted Anakin's nose.

And then he was  _in,_ and Obi-Wan had no more fight. Blue eyes went vacant, a body shuddered.

_Force damn it, Padmé. You had to unsettle him._

He would see to her next.

After he made sure Obi-Wan had no access to the decision to leave, why he had made it, and an impression that he needed a shower... though fuzzy on the reasons why.

 

* * *

 

Padmé knew something had changed.

She had seen what had been done to Obi-Wan, and though she couldn't  _feel_ it, there had been no mistaking what was happening, that night on Mustafar.

Obi-Wan had fought until the very last, long after having been disarmed, struggling to keep Anakin from taking his autonomy and mind too.

Anakin had simply kept at it until Obi-Wan's mind buckled in, against Obi-Wan's will, a matter of survival.

Damage the ankle enough, and when trying to take the next step, the knee will automatically buckle to protect it. Throw sharp grit at the eyes, and eyelids flinch shut to protect. Hold the breath too long, only to have the body override the mind and gulp in a gasp of air at the last millisecond— the mechanism of why people  _drown,_ dragging in water even when they know it's not the place to _._

A mind submitting to the impressing of another's will upon it was similar.

Obi-Wan fought, and then his automatic systems kicked in, to keep him from death.

Some people could override even that. It would be a terrible victory, however. If that emergency system did not kick in...

The assaulted would be left as a vegetable, mind utterly shattered for however long they continued to breathe. Hours... decades...

Looking slightly disoriented, but without any attempt to _regain_ his bearings, Obi-Wan had clipped his saber to his belt and walked back to the ship, on up the landing ramp and inside.

Anakin turned to Padmé, his eyes gold and an awful, heady look about him.

He had always leaned a bit in the direction of trying to control the people he loved, expressing anger if those loved ones refused it. He had tasted an absolute moment of power...

_I am next._

She could fight it to the bitter end, to her mind buckling, or to death, or to her mind utterly splintering apart...

_Or maybe I can keep something._

Padmé thought about what she'd felt when wretched whimpers escaped  _her friend_ Obi-Wan. How awful it felt to see the urine trail down his thigh, the agony in his eyes, the way he seized, falling to the ground with Anakin not even bothering to try to break his fall, writhing against the crushed stones in a way that cut open his palms as his eyes rolled up in his head.

That feeling.

When Anakin put words not her own into her head, she had to  _keep it._

Sure enough, he lifted his hand to guide his focus, and there he was, knocking at her mind.

She didn't fight it.

The feeling of not being alone in her own skin was  _horrifying,_ like the need to gag and the need to void and the need to tear out of a cage even if you had to leave flesh and fingernails and  _limbs_ behind to escape it, the utter  _horror_ and  _claustrophobia—_

And then all of it faded away, her body cradled with a soft cushion of warmth. Like there was a gauzy cotton, light and cloudlike and fluffy, between her and any discomfort, worry, or pain.

It felt like crawling into a bed with sheets that were cool to the touch, a mattress of just the right firmness, the pillow also just right, leaving you cozy and warm and cradled and just on the edge of sleep— a pleasant tiredness that promised a swift slumber and a refreshing awakening the following morning.

Anakin loved her. He loved her _so much._

The Empire had to be saved. Action had to be taken. What made the most sense was to be Empress, with Anakin as her enforcer, and Obi-Wan as their adviser. They could guide the galaxy in the best direction, the direction...

That part was vague. It didn't have words, exactly, just a fond exasperation, then an impression of...

Whatever _Padmé_ thinks is best.

Which was silly. Padmé was  _Padmé,_ and she knew her own mind. So such a statement was absurd.

Life would be simple, and good going forward.

Except...

It didn't work out quite like that.

Obi-Wan was present, but only took half-hearted participation, if any. He often stared at nothing, as if lost, or frozen in time.

And something about that made Padmé feel...  _awful_ inside. It was a terrible thing, a lurking thing, something trying to sneak up on her but never fully  _catching_ her, something she wished would just  _come out in the open_ so she could  _face_ it, but every time she tried to  _look_ it wasn't there.

It was like being haunted inside her own head, something vile slinking just out of the corner of her eye.

It left chills prickling down her spine, it made being  _alone_ in a room feel unspeakably...

Like she wasn't  _alone at all._ And not in a good way.

Even tolerating being in her dressing room alone was something almost  _beyond._

And she felt this need to talk to Obi-Wan. To know what he felt when he zoned out. What he saw when he stared into the middle space.

He avoided her, though. He shifted out of reach, did not respond to any of her notes or messages, and the longer it went on, the more convinced Padmé felt that something had been  _done_ to her, perhaps to him too, because she did not  _remember_ him being  _like this before._ He had a keen brain, he wasn't forgetful, he was kind and...

How exactly did he come to live with them?

Because... before she was Empress, he didn't.

And now he did, and it wasn't a  _new_ thing.

He didn't seem to possess much enthusiasm for his role as adviser... and yet hadn't he chosen it? Why choose something he felt so mediocre about? And when had Obi-Wan Kenobi  _ever_ been  _mediocre?_

The twins would soon be born. Padmé wanted to figure this out before then.

She just had to—

The door slid open, and Anakin walked in.

There was something odd about the way he looked at her, the way his feet moved.

Padmé felt an irrational terror seize her throat, and a desperate need to  _run._

_Why_ would she feel that way? This was  _Ani,_ her husband, who loved her so much...

So she didn't.

 

* * *

 

Rex stared at a holo of Ahsoka and wondered.

There were things he couldn't quite put his hands on. He wasn't prepared to call them things he couldn't  _remember,_ because it certainly felt like he  _could_ remember them. Just... not the details.

He knew he'd been near Ahsoka recently, in spite of the fact she had no longer possessed a military rank. He'd been taking orders from her anyway.

And Cody...

Cody had gone on some mission. Wasn't here right now.

And Rex was watching over the royal family. The Empress...

Had Ahsoka been there, when Senator Amidala became Empress Amidala? Because... Rex didn't think she had been. But why wouldn't she have been at an event so important to her former master?

Kenobi had been there. Part of Rex's job had been to keep watch over him, make sure he was safe.

There was such  _anguish_ hanging around Kenobi, like a wretched cloak. Or chains, maybe. Like everything good in his life had been killed, and all that remained was existing. Just... dragging through each day because he had to.

And there was a weird scar on Rex's head he couldn't recognize when he looked in the mirror.

_Did I take brain damage on that last mission with Ahsoka?_ And why did his hands shake, sweat slick his palms, and his head  _ache_ when he tried to think about anything but the present and future?

Kenobi had gone in to talk to Skywalker about something sad, that's for sure. Rex guessed it was probably to announce Kenobi was leaving.

Except Kenobi didn't end up leaving.

It all carried on as if there hadn't been  _screaming,_ horrific, adrenaline-inflicting  _screams—_

Why hadn't Rex investigated? Wasn't  _making sure_ something wasn't  _desperately wrong_ with Obi-Wan Kenobi part of his  _assignment_ ?

Or...  _had_ he investigated, and found all was fine?

In Rex's experience, beings did not randomly burst out into full-lunged distress at a pitch high enough it might be considered not...  _masculine_ at all. An agony so  _terrible_ that even  _manly yelling_ was discarded.

Yet apparently there had been no cause.

Kenobi had a strange nosebleed, though. That was new.

Kenobi didn't seem to pay much attention to it. He dabbed it away, carried on with his listless...  _presence_ ? Existing?

Rex wasn't sure he even had words for what Kenobi was here.

He sure didn't seem to be  _helping._

And the Empress made most decisions in a way that sounded familiar and matched everything Rex knew about her.

But occasionally...

A strange one would happen. Something like... Skywalker might do, if he felt he had no one to answer to. Perhaps there was more collaboration than there seemed to be.

Yes, that must be it.

They were husband and wife, after all. It was not surprising they would consult together, and occasionally the Empress would act in accordance with Skywalker's advice. Skywalker was a tactical genius, of course. Even if ethics were sometimes slippery bastards that ended up kicked out of the room, or...

Rex frowned, eyeing the still holo of Ahsoka Tano.

_I don't remember General Kenobi as a man to just look away from things that were clearly against his moral code. He doesn't believe in murder. He does believe in forgiveness. He doesn't believe in..._

What was it he didn't believe in?

Rex would skip that one.

_He_ did  _believe in the Jedi._

The Jedi weren't... here anymore. They'd been traitors.

It was odd, though. About Plo Koon. That Koon would betray the Wolf pack he seemed to love so much. And Fisto's men had adored him and his sense of humor. Would do just about anything to see that smile.

And Ponds...

Ponds had worshiped the ground Windu walked on.

They were...

All?

Traitors...

“Hey, Rex. You're thinking so hard it's almost audible. What's on your mind?”

Rex looked up, found Skywalker's blue eyes.

It was a relief.

The General had been someone Rex could trust, even back in that horrible time when he knew a brother was a traitor, but hadn't yet realized it was Slick. Skywalker didn't let his men down. Skywalker had a steady head, was clever...

Grateful to have another mind besides his own working on the mystery, Rex explained his confusion.

 

* * *

 

Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at himself in the mirror, dabbing away blood from his lip. The air in here was rather dry, he had to do something about the inside of his nose.

But it didn't feel particularly urgent.

He wasn't sure where his beard had gone. Clearly he had shaved it, but... the why was unavailable, at this time.

He was probably tired.

There was a great, terrible sadness aching inside him. A yawning gulf that when he peered in, every atom in his frame seemed to seize up with grief.

His...

His people were dead.

_I would... I would like..._

_I don't... want..._

Anakin was calling him to join them at dinner, but Obi-Wan didn't like looking at Padmé. There was something sad, there. It always made him feel second-best. As if she had been chosen for something, and Obi-Wan himself had been cast aside.

Obi-Wan just couldn't remember what it had all been about.

When he tried to raise the subject, his voice sounding ever more timid, even to his own ears...

Anakin always brushed it off, or chuckled, or...

There was a third reaction, but Obi-Wan was too tired to put his finger on it. It wasn't important.

It wasn't...

Obi-Wan watched a single, perfect drop of blood slipping silent down from his nose.

 

 


End file.
